Judge Daniel Bedinger Lucas, LL. D. (130)

Daniel Bedinger Lucas (130) was one of the most distinguished lawyers, jurists and litterateurs that this State has produced. He was born at "Rion Hall" in Charlestown, Jefferson County, Virginia, March 16, 1836, and was known as "the poet of the Shenandoah Valley.” He was the son of William Lucas and Virginia Ann Bedinger (43), daughter of Daniel Bedinger ( 7). He possessed a poetic temperament, and was an orator of power and force. He was the valedictorian of his graduating class of the University of Virginia. He then entered the well known law school of Judge John W. Brockenbrough, at Lexington, Virginia, and after his graduation in 1859, he began the practice of law in Charles Town and moved the next year to Richmond. At the beginning of the Civil War, he promptly offered his services to the Confederacy, and became a member of the staff of General Henry A. Wise and took part in the Kanawha Valley campaign, but his physical disability from a childhood spine injury kept him from active service in the last years of the war. Shortly before the close of the war, came one of the most thrilling as well as one of the most tragic experiences of his life, when he, amid great difficulty and danger, ran the blockade to New York in a vain effort to save the life of his college friend, John Yates Beall, who had been captured and was to be tried as a spy. Lucas was prevented by Federal officials from attending the trial and defending his friend in court. Beall was pronounced guilty and was executed on Governor's Island, February 24, 1865. Being unable to return to the South, Mr. Lucas went to Canada, where he remained until the close of the war. It was here that he wrote and first published his famous poem, "The Land Where We Were Dreaming".

When Mr. Lucas returned to his home shortly after the close of the war, he found himself no longer a resident of Virginia, but of West Virginia and because of the requirements of the Test Oath he was barred from the practice of law until 1871. During 1869-70, he was co-editor with J. Fairfax McLaughlen, LL. D., of The Southern Metropolis, a weekly published in Baltimore.

He took a prominent role in the Democratic Party politics of West Virginia, acting as Democratic elector in 1884 and 1886. Judge Lucas attained great distinction in his profession, because of his wonderful grasp of intricate legal questions and his eloquent and convincing oratory. On account of his extensive law practice, he declined to accept a position as professor of law in West Virginia University, and also an appointment as circuit judge in his district. Among the honors that came to him were his election to the State Legislature, and his appointment in 1889 as judge of the Supreme Court of Appeals of West Virginia, of which he was president at the time of his death in 1893.

He always took a high position on, and maintained a strong adherence to, the Democracy of the fathers of that party, against the alleged departure from the faith and doctrines of Jefferson, Madison and Monroe. He was instrumental in the defeat of the Hon. Johnson N. Camden, the Democratic nominee, for a seat in the United States Senate in 1887, whom he considered an ally of Standard Oil. Because of that alleged departure, The Legislature failed to elect a Senator, and after its adjournment Governor Wilson appointed Mr. Lucas to that position during the interim. But a special session of the Legislature was held the following April and Judge C. J. Faulkner was elected to the existing vacancy.

In spite of his busy life as a lawyer and judge, he found time to devote to literary work. Shortly after the publication of "The Land Where We Were Dreaming." he published a "Memoir of John Yates Beall." In 1869, he published "The Wreath of Eglantine," which contained the poems of his gifted sister, Virginia, and a number of his own poems, among which was his long poem "St. Agnes of Guienne." which was favorably received throughout the South. In 1869, Mrs. Margaret J. Preston writes: "Whether 'St. Agnes of Guienne' is an old legend, as we suppose or an invention of the poet, its handling is original and striking. The style has a well chosen quaintness in fine keeping with the medieval period in which the story has place. There is sometimes a rich sensuousness of description which suggests Keats' "Eve of St. Agnes", "...Very delicate, cameo-like chiseling, betraying, we think, the mallet hand ... ." As critics, we might pour out a vial or two of wrath on the head of some of Mr. Lucas' riotous metaphors, but we forbear, mollified and subdued by the abounding beauties of the poem ... ."

Of the volume, "The Wreath of Eglantine," a critic writes in The New Orleans Commercial Bulletin, of January 18, 1869: "These graceful poems possess so much of real merit and are marked by so many evidences of positive poetic beauty, that they might be left to introduce themselves... . Mr. Lucas is not unknown in the periodical literature of the day, and there are many, both North and South, who will recognize in the pages of this volume old and highly prized favorites. . . . Among them will be particularly remembered "The Land Where We Were Dreaming"... . These are followed by some twenty 'Tintographic Melodies' some of which even a stern critic might declare to be almost faultless in conception, and melody, and rhythm, etc."

Among his most charming poems are a number of love lyrics addressed to Miss Lena T. Brooke of Richmond, Virginia, who became his wife in 1869. "The Wreath of Eglantine" was followed by a war drama, "The Maid of Northumberland," in 1879 and by "Ballads and Madrigals," in 1884, in which are found a number of occasional poems of merit. He contributed a number of notable papers to The Southern Metropolis. Among them were his orations on Jackson, John Randolph, Henry Clay, and Daniel O'Connell, all of which received high commendation.

Since the death of Judge Lucas, in 1909, a collection of his poems entitled "The Land Where We Were Dreaming" and a volume of his dramatic works including "The Maid of Northumberland," "Hildebrand," and "Kate McDonald" have been edited by his daughter, Virginia, and, Professor Charles W. Kent. In the introduction to Judge Lucas' "Dramatic Works," Doctor Tucker Brooke of Yale University says: "Though Judge Lucas's most permanent contribution as a poet will doubtless be found, where he himself would have indicated it, in his lyrics of patriotism and sentiment, the poetic distinction of his plays is quite indisputable. The use of blank verse is never with him, as it has so often been with closet dramatists, a mere presumptuous affectation or a garish cloak to cover the writer's incapacity for realistic dialogue."

Daniel Bedinger Lucas, 1865, The Memoir of John Yates Beall: His Life; Trial; Correspondence; Diary; and Private Manuscript Found Among His Papers, Including His Own Account of the Raid on Lake Erie, Printed by J. Lovell, Montreal

MY HEART IS IN THE MOUNTAINS Right nobly flows the River James From Richmond to the Sea, And many a hallowed mem'ry claims, And tribute of love from me; But Western Tempe farther on- Mother of limestone fountains! My heart goes back with the setting sun- My heart, my heart is in the Mountains! There where the fringe-tree nods his plume, Beneath the white pine's shade- There where the laurel drops his bloom O'er many a wild cascade- There where the eagle seeks his nest- Mother of limestone fountains! List to an exile's prayer for rest- My heart, my heart is in the Mountains! The wide expanse of the boundless sea Is a sight to stir the soul, And there is a breadth of majesty In the Western prairie's roll- But give me the heights that milk the clouds, And gather the dew in fountains! Give me the peaks, with their misty shrouds- My heart, my heart is in the Mountains! There's something blank in the landscape here And tame in the water's flow- I pine for a mountain atmosphere, And a crag in the sunset's glow! King of the Hills! Blue Ridge that I love! Feed still the Vale with fountains, From rock and dale, and mountain-cove- My heart, my heart is in the Mountains!

Fair were our nation's visions, and as grandAs ever floated out of fancy-land; Children we were in simple faith, But god-like children, whom nor death,Nor threat of danger drove from honor's path-- In the land where we were dreaming!

Proud were our men as pride of birth could render,As violets our women pure and tender; And when they spoke, their voices thrill At evening hushed the whip-poor-will,At morn the mocking bird was mute and still, In the land where we were dreaming!

And we had graves that covered more of glory,Than ever taxed the lips of ancient story; And in our dreams we wove the thread Of principles for which had bled,And suffered long our own immortal dead, In the land where we were dreaming!

Tho' in our land we had both bond and free,Both were content, and so God let them be; Till Northern glances, slanting down, With envy viewed our harvest sun--But little recked we, for we still slept on, In the land where we were dreaming!

Down from her eagle height smiled Liberty,And waved her hand in sign of victory; The world approved, and everywhere, Except where growled the Russian bear,The brave, the good and just gave us their prayer, For the land where we were dreaming!

High o'er our heads a starry flag was seen,Whose field was blanched, and spotless in its sheen; Chivalry's cross its union bears, And by his scars each vet'ran swearsTo bear it on in triumph through the wars, In the land where we were dreaming!

We fondly thought a Government was ours--We challenged place among the world's great powers; We talk'd in sleep of rank, commission, Until so life-like grew the vision,That he who dared to doubt but met derision, In the land where we were dreaming!

A figure came among us as we slept--At first he knelt, then slowly rose and wept; Then gathering up a thousand spears, He swept across the field of Mars,Then bowed farewell and walked behind the stars, From the land where we were dreaming!

We looked again, another figure stillGave hope, and nerved each individual will; Erect he stood, as clothed with power; Self-poised, he seemed to rule the hour,With firm, majestic sway,--of strength a tower, In the land where we were dreaming!

As while great Jove, in bronze, a warder god,Gazed eastward from the Forum where he stood, Rome felt herself secure and free,-- So Richmond, we, on guard for thee,Beheld a bronzed hero, god-like Lee, In the land where we were dreaming!

As wakes the soldier when the alarm calls,--As wakes the mother when her infant falls,-- As starts the traveler when around His sleepy couch the fire-bells sound,--So woke our nation with a single bound-- In the land where we were dreaming!

Woe! Woe! is us, the startled mothers cried,While we have slept, our noble sons have died! Woe! Woe! is us, how strange and sad, That all our glorious visions fled,Have left us nothing real but our dead, In the land where we were dreaming!

And are they really dead, our martyred slain?No, Dreamers! Morn shall bid them rise again, From every plain,--from every height,-- On which they seemed to die for right,Their gallant spirits shall renew the fight, In the land where we were dreaming!

Unconquered still in soul, tho' now o'er-run,In peace, in war, the battle's just begun! Once this Thyestean banquet o'er, Grown strong the few who bide their hour,Shall rise and hurl its drunken guests from power, In the land where we were dreaming!

Two of Daniel Bedinger Lucas' poems have been set to music by Terry Tucker. One of the poems, "My Heart is in the Mountains" is given above. The other poem, "Celestial Spell" is given below. Recordings of the musical compositions can be accessed at Terry Tucker's website.

CELESTIAL SPELL

“To Miss Nannie B.” is the original titleof the poem by Daniel Bedinger Lucas.Set to Music by Terry Tucker.

What star presided at thy birth,Beneath whose soft, celestial spell,Down-trembling to the charmed earth,The very soul of music fell?

Like Echo, or young Sybalis,Or note preserved from Orphic plaint,Thou art a Voice, sweet Cantatrice,Thy physique but a supplement.

As all the tints in mingled throngProduce White Light in purity,So all the elements of SongCombine to form thy minstrelsy,

Priestess elect of Melody,Eldest and dearest of the arts,Wed music still to Poesie,Before the altars of our hearts.